


The Suit Jacket

by InTheSky



Category: Talented Mr Ripley (1999)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Caught, Dickie totally knows Tom's there though, F/M, He's mean, M/M, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Pining, Teasing, Trapped In A Closet, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-25 17:36:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20029690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InTheSky/pseuds/InTheSky
Summary: This is a sort of AU where instead of Dickie catching Tom in his suit, things go a little differently...





	The Suit Jacket

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go, writing some sad Tom fanfiction. Don't spy on people pls.

Tom ran his fingers over the deep black suit jacket on him, smiling gleefully as he felt the tightly woven, smooth, rich fabric on his shoulders. The slight glint skimming over his shoulders as he moved in the dim light, the way it clung to him and brought out his broad shoulders, the way it made him feel like...

Dickie Greenleaf.

His face fell- suddenly the suit didn't fit so well. Suddenly it clung to him a little too tightly, made his shoulders stick out at odd, awkward angles, flapped over his abdomen instead of tailoring beautifully down his body like a waterfall like it did on Dickie. Tom's face became still, the remainder of his smile looking out of place, making his eyes look smaller, sharper, so unlike Dickie's expressive, confident gaze. He let his hands fall to his sides, grasping at the suit sleeves as he began to take it off.

Footsteps jolted him out of his haze, the world become sharper and clearer all at once and the facade was back- Tom's back straightened, and he flung off the jacket, his hands tight around it as his teeth grit. Stumbling back from the mirror, he rapidly turned his head left and right, looking for anywhere to hide. The bed- no, how would he look discovered under there? The balcony- no, why would he be there? His heart began to pound and the air flew fast into and out of his mouth. Tremors rattled through his body. The closet! No one would look in there now, no one but Tom.

He bolted towards his hiding place, gangly legs tripping over each other as he rushed into the closet, panting while he sat down, suit jacket still in hand. Breath slowing, he focussed on the door...

The hazy afternoon glow reflected beautifully on Dickie's perfect, unblemished skin. He glided into the room, pulling Marge along with him as he threw kisses over her face. He smiled that wonderful, gorgeous smile and Tom felt his heart melt. A slight gasp shuddered out of Tom's twisting, uneven mouth as he marvelled at Dickie's body, eyes following every perfect movement of his body.

Quickly, he glanced at Marge, his smile faltering. A chill wormed its way through his body as he shuffled around in the closet, shoved uncomfortably into the tight space. Legs almost touching his shoulders, hands with barely enough room to clutch at the floor by his sides. This wasn't normal- this could never be normal. Not with Marge here, with Dickie so unwilling to see how much Tom loved him. Dickie let his knees buckle as he moved backwards onto the bed, effortlessly confident, owning the space. A breathly laugh fell from Marge's cracked, dry lips, as her frail hair waved pathetically in the wind. The corner of Tom's mouth turned upwards; she was disgusting. Why had Dickie, a golden, perfect concoction of everything good in the world be taken- no, stolen- by such a brittle, shrill woman. She wasn't entertaining, or interesting, or fun- not like Tom was. Tom could be all those things if he tried.

As his wonderful, beautiful Dickie softly turned Marge over, running his hands over her body, Tom watched.

Tom watched a woman take what he so obviously wanted, needed.

His hands began to twitch. His teeth grit. Short nails dug into the floor of the closet, like an animal desperately trying to escape but barely held back by the rapidly slipping hold Tom had over himself. A deep breath, then another, and Tom refocussed himself. All he had to do was stay in here, quietly, until it was over. He closed his eyes, moving his hands to rest on his thighs.

"Tom"

His eyes flew open as he gasped, clawing at his face as he tried to stop the noise. His eyes flew to the closet door, peeping upwards as shame rushed through his body. Red faced, he held his breath.

"Marge, Marge..."

After what felt like an eternity, he let himself breath again. Shaking his head as tears pricked at his eyes, he looked through the small openings in the closet shutters. It was only in his head, Dickie and Marge were still on the bed, pulsing and breathing and being alive. Tom could never, never be like that. His brain wracked, at least he hadn't been discovered. That would be....

Tom shuddered.

He steadied himself, and looked back to the couple.

"Dickie" Marge laughed, smiling- a rare sight, he realised. Her smiles never reached her eyes, she sun's glow never settling on her skin. "Dickie, stop, you're making he laugh!" He watched Dickie's mouth pepper light kisses over her stomach, both of them giggling before Dickie's smooth fingers brushed over Marge, lower and lower. He watched her bite her lip, allowing pleasure to build up inside her. He watched, tense, as Dickie's fingers began to pump in and out of her while he whispered in her ear.

Tom found his hands move down towards the front of his trousers, fingers toying with the zipper as he dragged it lower. Reaching inside, he touched himself through his underwear. Light touches, never enough to make him forget the shame rippling through his body, played over his cock. His eyes never left the Marge and Dickie, but the more he looked at Marge, the more the cracks in his facade began to show. His jaw clenched, tense to the point of pain as jealousy flooded through him. Tearing his eyes away from the brittle woman, he looked at Dickie; body moving like a wave, he moved in and out of Marge effortlessly. He smiled, teeth showing as his eyes narrowed and he suddenly pushed into Marge, pulling gasp after gasp and countless moans out of her. He cruelly toyed with her, overwhelming her with cascading waves of pleasure as his hands moved to play with her clit.

Tom bit his lip, drawing blood, moving his hands faster over his pulsing cock. His eyes dried, growing colder as the obsessively watched the two. His head flooded with thoughts of him and Dickie- him in Marge's place. Looking up at Dickie's smile, being used however Dickie wanted...

All too soon, it was over- his orgasm came rushing at him before he could stop to think about the noise. A moan slipped from his mouth, and at once he snapped his teeth shut and covered his mouth, clamping down on a finger. Cheeks red, pain pricked at his bitten finger while he fumbled with his zipper, managing to close his trousers.

"Dickie, what was-?"

"Shh, shh" He nibbled around her ear, hands running up and down her body as Marge relaxed back down into the bed, pillows piled around the two. Relief rushed through Tom, and she shuffled slightly in the cramped space, still tense. Eyes glued back onto Dickie's golden, shining body, a slight smile played on Tom's face as his shoulders fell. Hushed voices mumbled and whispered from the bed, as the glow of the afternoon sun dimmed. Yawning, Marge stretched, her thin arms lifting high above her head before she smiled, leaning into DIckie's as they kissed. Each movement of lips against lips, tongues delicately poking out, and eyelashes fluttering down delicately left Tom stone-like, muscles taught as jealously slithered through his veins.

Marge seemed to float out of the room like a wisp, hair trailing after her. At the door, she turned briefly at glanced, unsure, at the closet. Tom's eyes narrowed as he held his breath. She couldn't see him, could she? A light step towards him, his stomach turned. Soon she was only a few strides away from him and he was frozen in place, eyes clawing at him. He grit his teeth.

"Marge?" That beautiful, smooth voice flooded over him and Tom breathed again. "What are you doing? It's nothing, just..." His voice became colder, and Tom couldn't feel more grateful for the words that came next: "Get out."

If only he could mean forever. 'Get out, Marge, don't come back. I don't need you.' Then, Tom could be there. Tom could be the one. That, deep, constant, pulsing need to be near Dickie resurfaced, stronger now. The door closed, quietly, as if it was miles away from him. Miles away from Tom and Dickie- Tom and Dickie on an island, just the two of them...

A few quick strides and the closet was open. Dickie looked down, eyes and teeth glinting. Blood rushed to Tom's face and his eyes went wide. His eyes flashed upwards, with just enough time to see Dickie's mouth twitch and smirk.

"Enjoying yourself, Tom?"

**Author's Note:**

> For the record I don't hate Marge, just the way I imagine Tom sees her (projecting all his insecuries onto her in a way). Hope you enjoyed reading this!


End file.
